


Disappearing Act

by FunkyinFishnet



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, F/M, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Battle of Five Armies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-20
Updated: 2017-01-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 20:29:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9401753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FunkyinFishnet/pseuds/FunkyinFishnet
Summary: In Erebor, Bilbo Baggins thinks about disappearing. But he gets distracted by Kili and Fili and their mother Dis and by Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain, sleeping, healing, and listening to Bilbo's words.





	

 

 

 

Bilbo often found himself touching the ring, checking it was still in his waistcoat pocket. He hadn’t put it on since the end of the battle, since Thorin had been carried into the Mountain, to the healing rooms. His thoughts had been consumed by Thorin since the words they’d exchanged when Thorin had believed himself dying. Thorin who lay so still now.

 

But the temptation was strong sometimes - to disappear, to avoid all the Dwarvish eyes that always seemed to be looking at him. They looked at him as though they wanted him gone, as though they blamed him for what had happened to Thorin, and Bilbo lowered his eyes and tried not to trip, his hand sliding into his pocket, thinking about Hobbiton and Bag End and his lovely Hobbit clothes that fit him perfectly and the beautiful hollyhocks in bloom and...

 

Then he’d see Thorin, being tended to by Oin, and Fili and Kili both awake now and always pleased to see him , Fili usually telling Kili to stay put and asking Bilbo how Thorin was because Bilbo had been helping Oin with changing Thorin’s dressings and making poultices and Oin had said Bilbo had a talent for it and didn’t stand on ceremony which was needed when administering healing. So Bilbo was there every day and when he wasn’t helping Oin, he was doing some reading and mending in Thorin’s room and eating a meal by Thorin's side at least once a day and, he kept this part to himself, talking quietly despite Thorin’s maintained quiet. Bilbo enjoyed conversation, both polite and engaging, and he couldn’t imagine lying in such lonely silence, no news, no friendship, no...well, he talked. It helped settle his thoughts too; enabling him to say things he couldn’t otherwise say in a place he was watched so frequently. And perhaps hearing a familiar voice, hearing how well the Dwarves were settling in Erebor, would bring Thorin closer to wakefulness.

 

“He shouldn’t be alone,” Fili said with a nod, smacking at Kili’s hands when he tried to itch his scars. “His brooding’s always worse then.”

 

That was why Bilbo stayed and stayed visible. Fili had had a prouncement sent throughout the Mountain that Bilbo wasn’t banished anymore, seeing as he was Crown Prince while Thorin healed.

 

“Uncle wasn’t right then,” Kili added, after Fili had finished dictating something to a scribe who’d written carefully on a long scroll before exiting. “Mum always said the dragon would get him. Thank the Valor for you, Bilbo.”

 

Bilbo spluttered a little, flushing, “You’ve forgotten your uncle tried to throw me off the Mountain.”

 

“He wasn’t right,” Fili reminded him, his tone firm and his gaze matching it.

 

He looked older now weary of course but ready too, like he knew the next steps he’d be taking. He made sure that Bilbo kept his gaze.

 

“And he said that, didn’t he, before we found you.”

 

Bilbo closed his mouth. He was going to keep the words exchanged between him and Thorin behind his tongue. They felt more precious than the warmth of Bag End, than the smell of a good cup of tea, than all the gold in the Mountain. But he nodded.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Well then.” Fili smiled broadly, the energetic youth who’d gone recklessly questing with his brother suddenly bright in front of Bilbo. “We agree with him and the Mountain will too.”

 

“Whether they like it or not,” grinned Kili, his smile now a strange shape thanks to his scars.

 

He and Fili talked to Bilbo as though he was family and had started calling him uncle. It made Bilbo felt warm in the cold places that Thorin’s silence continually caused. The brothers had a habit of sweeping away every other thought when Bilbo was in their presence. They insisted on hearing all that was happening in the Mountain that Bilbo could tell them, as they still weren’t permitted to leave the healing rooms. Fili had Balin and Dwalin visiting him and other Dwarves who were apparently members of some kind of council and there was Dain and his Dwarves who eyed Bilbo the most suspiciously but Kili threw an apple core at Dain and asked about his daughters and Fili told Bilbo to stay as he had to speak to him yet and Bilbo found himself listening to Fili deftly handle all matters of Dwarvish state as Kili listened just as keenly and Bilbo forgot sometimes that they had been born for this.

 

Then there were the times Kili sighed over Tauriel and Fili would tease him and Bilbo would have to ensure they didn’t start fighting and break the stitches Oin had laboured over. When they were alone or with Bilbo, they didn’t seem to be grand princes. They were two young brothers, healing from battle, and if Bilbo gave them that in any small way, he was glad. A little relaxation between duty seemed like good medicine. Just as they distracted him, them and Thorin, his breathing, his presence, his listening, kept the ring in Bilbo’s pocket and away from his rooms where someone might find it.

 

*

 

Then there was Thorin’s sister. She was distracting too. She arrived in a cloud of ceremony and strong words, thumping her cousin Dain jovially and declaring that he’d slain all the fun without her again. As soon as she saw her sons in the healing rooms, her voice could be heard quite loudly on several levels of Erebor. Bilbo stayed in his rooms, despite how much he wished he could be with Thorin, talking quietly about the noise of his sister and how he doubted Thorin would intervene were he awake. He knew better than to interfere in family matters, especially when they were royal, especially when they were Dwarven. Of course if Kili and Fili’s wounds were getting unsettled, Oin would step in. His deafness granted him a certain fearlessness.

 

Still it was unexpected when there was a sharp knock at Bilbo’s door and Dis herself strode through. She was without her long weather-worn cape and had bright jewels woven throughout her hair and beard that sparkled with every movement she made. There was a tall Dwarf behind her, eyeing Bilbo steadily and sharply glancing around the room. It was all rather alarming.

 

“Bilbo Baggins.”

 

Dis’ words were a statement, not a question. Bilbo hastily got to his feet and dipped into a deep bow, wishing more than ever that he was dressed more appropriately. He missed his fine waistcoats.

 

“Your Highness,” he hazarded.

 

Dis smiled slightly at that, “Rise, Mr Baggins. I would speak to you of my brother. Oin tells me you sit with him every day.”

 

She took a seat as she spoke, her Dwarven companion coming to stand at her side, and Bilbo was being granted a royal audience in rooms that were as neat as he could make them but that felt so empty compared to Bag End. Not that Dwarves were a correct fit in Bag End. Still, he missed it sharply then, thinking of how he could entertain there and be so content.

 

“Sit, Mr Baggins.”

 

“Oh. Yes. Thank you, Your Highness.”

 

So Bilbo sat and talked of Thorin’s current state and all that Bilbo did to try and heal the wound’s damage. He talked about Kili and Fili and how Fili was leading from his bed still and how they were healing. Dis asked questions and eventually introduced her Dwarven shadow – Haraka, her second, as Dwalin was to Thorin. Bilbo hadn’t recognised that Dwalin played any role especially towards Thorin but he could glimpse it now. A guard perhaps, because Dis and Thorin were of royal blood.

 

It was the first of many times that Dis called for Bilbo to talk with her, usually in her own suite of rooms. She insisted that he eat with her too and she told him stories about Thorin, about his wilfulness and how in childhood he had been like Fili and Kili both. She talked about her other brother Frerin and how his death had changed everything. Bilbo loved to hear it all, though he wished that he was hearing it from Thorin, that deep voice, like the very depths of Erebor itself. Well, it didn’t matter now. And whatever Thorin had said, the words they’d exchanged when Thorin had thought himself dying, it could have been just that. He’d thought himself dying. Perhaps it wouldn’t matter when he woke.

 

Dis didn't ask Bilbo once what words had been exchanged when he'd found Thorin, bloodied and dying. She looked at him like she knew and whenever she found him in Thorin's room talking, his words immediately drying up, she only smiled as though something had been confirmed. Bilbo usually cleared his throat and asked how Fili and Kili were, avoiding her gaze.

 

When the two of them were alone, he told Thorin all about the time he spent with Dis, how glad Kili and Fili were to see her, how much Bilbo was learning about Dwarven culture which Dis spoke quite freely about and answered his questions. How much he wished he was learning it from Thorin. How much Dwarves stared at him even more now – because the Princess Regent was spending so much time with him, marking him out as favoured. The once-banished Hobbit.

 

Bilbo shut his eyes and pressed his fingers to the ring, checking it was there. But he'd found recently that sometimes the ring was on his finger, just as far as the knuckle. He didn’t remember putting it there. He always shoved it hastily back into his pocket.

 

*

 

Dis took charge of the Mountain so that Fili could truly rest and heal. Dis never sat on the throne itself; rather she eyed it with a lot of distaste. Bilbo felt a certain agreeableness with her after seeing that expression. She hadn’t seen Thorin on the throne but she clearly had heard or knew enough. Yes, Bilbo didn’t want to see a Durin there again.

 

She was on very good terms with Dain and laughed and drank with him and saw that the Iron Hills Dwarves were as praised and integrated as those from the Blue Mountains. She never showed favouritism, except perhaps to Haraka, who was quite the tallest Dwarf Bilbo had ever encountered. She had deep red hair and a beard so long that braids of it were often tucked into her belt. She rarely spoke, or rather Bilbo rarely heard her speak. All she seemed to do was watch.

 

It was this kind of ruminating and learning that truly distracted Bilbo from thoughts of the ring, of the Dwarves that stared at him. He offered Haraka food and drink when seated at one of the vast shared meals, it seemed unfair that she had to stand at Dis’ shoulder, when did she ever get to eat? She ate bits and pieces, morsels that Dis handed her. But it was never a full meal. And she was always so busy watching – either whoever Dis was talking to or Dis herself. She shook her head when Bilbo made his offer but actually thanked him politely.

 

“My thanks, Bilbo Baggins. But it isn’t permitted.”

 

Bilbo stared at her, the noise of the feast rising around them. “You’re not permitted to eat?!”

 

Haraka laughed then, a deep chuckle. “I eat, Bilbo Baggins, but in public, I eat only what the Princess permits.”

 

Oh. Bilbo looked at Dis who was picking up a hunk of some kind of animal, weighing it in her hand before passing it over her shoulder to Haraka without a glance. Bilbo tucked himself closer to the table and took a careful look around the hall. The only other Dwarf who seemed to have a second was Dain, a hulking figure who carried an enormous axe and who never left Dain’s side. He wasn’t eating either. There, Dain had just tossed something over his shoulder, a large handful of bread it looked like, which his second caught.

 

It reminded Bilbo more than a little of how young (and not so young) Hobbits fed their pets. He didn’t voice a syllable of such a thought though. There were always a lot of weapons near him now, as so many Dwarves were packed into the hall. Bilbo had enough eyes on him already. His hand strayed to his pocket.

 

“They listen and watch,” Dis broke into his thoughts, seeing something in Bilbo’s expression that prompted an explanation. “Haraka has watched over me since I was smaller than you. And she has an appetite equal to Dwalin’s. If I neglected that, she would not fight nearly as hard for me.”

 

Haraka’s eyes were twinkling when Bilbo glanced back at her again as Dis continued.

 

“You truly never wondered why Dwalin stuck so close to my brother’s shoulder?”

 

Bilbo flicked a glance towards Dwalin who was sat beside Ori, filling the younger Dwarf’s cup. Oin was watching over Thorin for now of course. Bilbo watched over him too.

 

Haraka’s eyes were not sparkling when they too looked towards Dwalin. There was some kind of flint in her gaze instead. Dis did not seem worried, though Bilbo felt himself tense, especially when Dwalin looked just as stony back.

 

“It is no worry, Bilbo Baggins,” Dis told him firmly, in a tone that insisted on no contradiction.

 

Haraka carried two enormous swords on her back and an axe on her belt. But she wasn’t reaching for any of them and Dwalin seemed, well, content in his own way, to sit beside Ori, one arm tucked around the smaller Dwarf. Their expressions did not inspire confidence though.

 

“It’s a long story which I am willing to tell away from these crowds,” Dis informed him.

 

It was an order, sheathed in polite suggestion and one Bilbo was willing to obey. He’d noticed that; how Dis’s orders brought about obedience through a warmth that infused her words, how she seemed pleased to meet with everyone and absolutely decided. She was a warrior –she never went anywhere unarmed – but she was very skilful with words too. She was a different ruler than her brother.

 

Such thoughts kept Bilbo distracted enough throughout the feast that he didn’t think about the ring again.

 

*

 

An evening spent with Dis was always eventful. Sometimes they sat in Fili and Kili’s healing room, talking to Dis’ sons as they healed. Fili was permitted to walk around the space to work on his muscles while Kili was more interested in talking about Tauriel, the Elf he claimed to be in love with.

 

Dis had met her only once when visiting Dale to meet with King Bard – Tauriel was living and working there now with King Bard – but she wasn’t as convinced as Kili of his need to be betrothed to the Elf. There had been some very loud arguments about it. Bilbo usually quickly exited to Thorin’s room, to talk to Thorin and to continue work on his wounds.

 

Bilbo found his fingers didn’t tremble too much as he worked to reapply poultices and bandages. And his mind stayed clear of thoughts of rings and gold fever. Thorin was still breathing and Bilbo wanted to do what he could every day. Whatever Thorin said when he woke up, whether it matched what he’d said beforehand or not, Bilbo would help. Because Thorin was his friend, because Thorin had completed his quest, because he was Thorin.

 

Bilbo found himself interested in the room Dis ordered him to whenever she wished to meet with him away from every other Dwarf. It seemed to be a study of some kind with a large wooden desk piled high with paper and books and there were carvings and paintings that Bilbo wanted to ask about. But this was Dis’ home now and perhaps the decorations were all that was left of whoever had lived here before or maybe they were from Dis' previous home.

 

He watched as Dis rebraided part of her hair and beard, securing them with a multitude of beads and elegantly-crafted metal. Almost every Dwarf Bilbo had met wore braids of some kind. He supposed there was a meaning to it, like Hobbits professed meanings through buttonholes and flowers in a lass’s hair.

 

“Did my brother never explain?” Dis asked one night, as she finished twisting a chunk of hair so that it draped behind her ear.

 

She tied it off with a very dark gemstone set in silver. Bilbo had noticed that the gems and metal that Dis and Fili wore in their hair were much richer-looking than any other Dwarf’s. But Kili never wore anything; he didn’t even seem to attempt a braid.

 

Bilbo shook his head. “No, Your Highness. He was very...silent about, well, many things apart from the quest of course.”

 

Dis barked out a laugh and seemed fond despite her clear derision. “Close-mouthed and yet full of talk, most of it argumentative I'm sure.”

 

Bilbo opened his mouth but no, he couldn’t argue that. It was a perfect description of Thorin. Dis chuckled, apparently at Bilbo’s expression.

 

“My brother believes that because the Dwarven race has suffered before, it always will and that none but Dwarves should know our ways. Of course this means few beyond our race have hope of understanding us and therefore building alliances that could see us soar to golden heights he wishes to possess stay far beyond his reach.”

 

Dis flicked braids away from her face, looking so like Thorin that something squeezed hard in Bilbo’s chest and throat. Dis seemed to know because she reached to pat his hand briefly. Then she let go and began pointing to her braids.

 

“This one marks me as royal blood, this one as mother of the Durin heirs. These fastenings were made for me by my husband as a courting gift, these for our betrothal and these for our wedding. The fact these ones are used on these braids mark me as a widow. There are several for battles I survived, this is for my first, and this one with the clear gemstones is for my place as regent of the Blue Mountains.”

 

There were more braids she didn’t explain but Bilbo didn’t ask. She had revealed so much already. He was trying to remember where Thorin’s braids had lain and if any of his gemstones matched Dis’s.

 

“I suppose that limits having to ask so many questions,” he said instead.

 

Dis smiled, “Once you know what you’re looking for. I did remind Thorin that revealing such things would mean less questions.”

 

It was a very sensible idea though Thorin doubtless saw only something significantly Dwarven being taken from his grasp and shared amongst people and races he was convinced looked down on him and plotted his demise. He could be the most frustrating Dwarf. Bilbo shared a look with Dis that revealed she felt something of the same way.

 

“Forgive me for asking but why doesn’t Kili wear any braids?” Bilbo asked instead.

 

He doubted Kili did so for the same reason that Thorin kept quiet about the practice to any but Dwarves. Kili’s feelings about everything were never in doubt. So why wasn’t he as open as every other Dwarf seemed to be in such a Dwarven way?

 

Dis sighed the sigh of a parent. “Braids interfere with his archery. He could tie his hair back of course but he claims that never sits right when he shoots either. And whenever he has worn braids, they’ve always unravelled.”

 

Bilbo blinked. It sounded as though Kili had always done everything in his power to avoid wearing braids. Rather like him using a bow more than say a sword, it marked him as someone who was a Dwarf who didn’t always choose to be Dwarvish.

 

“I imagine Thorin hasn’t been glad of these choices?” he suggested.

 

Dis nodded and poured Bilbo another drink. “Fili is his first heir but he still wishes Kili would behave as a Dwarf, let alone a prince, should.”

 

“And now he’s in love with an Elf,” added Bilbo quietly, because that detail couldn't be disguised, not after the alarming volume of Dis and Kili's arguments.

 

Dis didn’t sigh again but she did shake her head, “He’s so sure. She helped imprison my family and the way she looks at us all and speaks in such a way...I can’t pretend it doesn’t dig under me.”

 

“Are you...?”

 

Bilbo trailed off, not wanting to finish his question of whether Dis was thinking of barring Kili from marrying Tauriel. Was that even possible? Kili was in line for the throne after Fili. Even with his mother holding the Mountain until Fili was released from the healing rooms; it seemed unlikely that Kili would accept any ruling that barred him from Tauriel. Bilbo had seen the way Kili had looked at her – she’d visited several times; at Kili’s request and given Fili’s permission.

 

Dis raised her eyebrows amused, draining her goblet. “Am I going to banish the She-Elf from Erebor? Or force my son to give her up? I married a blacksmith when my father had his eye on a lordling or prince for me but I absolutely refused. I know the look Kili wears.”

 

She sounded resigned and her fingers were tight around the empty goblet. She was not as angry as Thorin would be.

 

“I’m not happy,” she ventured after a taut pause. “But I won’t increase my son’s unhappiness. Publically I will support him; marrying the She-Elf could bring a strong alliance, with Dale if not Mirkwood, and it will show everyone that the Dwarves of Erebor are willing to build such friendships. And it will no doubt rankle the King of Mirkwood.”

 

That sounded like Thorn. Bilbo cracked a smile at how happy Dis sounded. She looked at him questioningly.

 

“I just...heard your brother.”

 

Dis’ smile broadened and she looked affectionate, the expression tinged with sadness and pain. Yes, Bilbo knew that expression too. His hand patted his pocket.

 

*

 

Bilbo sometimes sat with Dis in the great hall, near the throne but not on it, when Dwarves approached with matters for her judgement. Dis’ council, the same council that would advise Fili when he was fully healed, were always there too, made up of Dwarves from the Blue Mountains, the Iron Hills and Thorin’s Company, specifically Balin. Dwalin shadowed his brother now, speaking for the warriors apparently.

 

Bilbo watched and listened as a stream of Dwarves came forward one by one with complaints and problems for Dis to unknot. Some of them were incredibly trivial but Dis weighed them all equally. A lot seemed rooted in a belief that either Iron Hills or Blue Mountain Dwarves were gaining more somehow. Dis always made sure both were held level.

 

She didn’t lose her temper or shout. She referred to Balin sometimes and even to Dwalin or another member of the council. She listened to their advice and asked for further clarification. She dealt with accusations about thieving and spying, she heard updates about mining and trade with the Men of Dale and how communication continued with the Elves of Mirkwood. She was so calm and relaxed, so entirely in control.

 

The Dwarves who waited to talk to Dis all without exception spent some time staring at Bilbo and muttering. Bilbo clenched his hand and pressed his lips together as Dis beckoned the next Dwarf forward who had green beads in his hair.

 

*

 

Less than a week later, Fili was finally permitted to leave the healing rooms and fully take on his duties as Crown Prince. Every Dwarf that Fili passed on his way to the great hall bowed to him. Bilbo walked beside Dis, Haraka right behind them. Even Oin had left the healing rooms and Thorin to witness Fili being crowned. Bilbo touched the ring, nerves and worry jumping up his throat. He wished he could describe everything to Thorin. He would do, as soon as he was released.

 

Fili leaned a little on Bofur as he walked to the throne. But he kept his head high and smiled warmly, his face pale by the time he reached the throne. He was dressed in rich colours, though the style remained as practical as anything he’d worn on the quest to Erebor. He also wore a long elaborate cloak – Dis had explained that it bore the crest of Durin’s line – and a particularly glittering set of beads woven into his hair and beard, matching the jewelled cuff clasped around his wrist and the rings on his fingers.

 

The scars across his face were deep and painful-looking, though they didn’t affect his sight or speech. Dis and Dain crowned him, the Blue Mountains and the Iron Hills together. The crown was made by smiths from both lines of Dwarves. There was no gold in it.

 

During the feast, Bilbo kept thinking of Thorin, alone in the healing rooms. There would be guards on the doors but no one tending to him, talking to him. Bilbo tried not to frown, to draw more attention to himself. It would be better if he was there, with Thorin. Fili was crowned now. And the Dwarves were staring at him again, sat at the highest table with the royal family. The Hobbit Thorin had banished and to whom, much later, he'd said...Bilbo was causing problems by staying.

 

He tried to concentrate on the images of the day to relay to Thorin later. Fili was wearing a quirk of a smile that reminded Bilbo of too many jokes from Fili’s mouth with the nudge of Kili’s elbow as accompaniment. Fili, as comfortable as he looked on the throne, the picture wasn’t right without Kili at his side. Fili sat up straight though and while there was many echos of Thorin’s presence there – in posture and familial look – Fili’s eyes were different. He was not terse or greedy, paranoid or strung.

 

Dwalin was talking to Ori, his eyes lighter than Bilbo remembered, as Ori talked and gestured. Balin was talking to a couple of Dain’s advisors, Bombur was playing with several small children with his wife close beside him, Bofur was singing and starting what looked to be some sort of jig that a few others Dwarves were starting to join in with. There was a great deal of happiness filling the hall. Bilbo thought that Thorin, his mind cleared of fever, would have been content at that, for this day if nothing else.

 

When he eventually left for Thorin’s room, Bilbo bowed to Dis and to Fili and tried not to listen to the murmuring that rose at his exit. His jaw was tense though and his feet quickened once he was beyond the hall. Inside Thorin's room, his breathing sounded so loud, it seemed to make the candle flames gut.

 

Thorin remained still, no change of expression. Bilbo had looked at him like that so often but his insides still squeezed hard and despairingly, today of all days, so hard in fact that Bilbo felt his legs actually wobble. There was so much laughter in the hall, Thorin's victory had made all of it possible. He should be listening to it. Bilbo's words hadn't been enough.

 

The tightness inside of him was heavy with guilt now too and his breathing made the candle flames dance wildly again. A couple then went out – because when he adjusted Thorin's hand bandages, Thorin's fingers suddenly and unmistakably twitched.

 

*

 

Once Oin and Dis had been called to see Thorin’s movements – his eyes still weren’t open and he wasn’t fully waking – Bilbo found himself unable to look away from Thorin's bed. Fili was apparently on his way and Kili could be heard demanding updates from his room next door and kept shouting that he could move off his bloody bed and see his uncle. The guards weren't letting him though, not without word from Dis or Fili.

 

Thorin was moving. He wasn't just breathing now.

 

Bilbo's legs wobbled again and he quickly sit down on an out-of-the-way stool and was aware of Fili entering, Bifur helping him in, talking in Khazdul – a string of words Bilbo recognised as a mixture of swearing and thanksgiving. He knew the cadence now.

 

There were more Dwarves filling the room and Bilbo was suddenly aware of limbs, noise and eyes on him, occasional comments. He wanted to tell everyone to be quiet; to get them away from Thorin, to stop pushing in. Thorin needed to heal. He was breathing and he was moving and he needed to heal and he needed to listen.

 

Thorin was moving. Would Bilbo need to move? Back to Hobbiton? Would Thorin speak again at last? Would he say the same thing to Bilbo that he had before? All those eyes and mouths...

 

Bilbo fingered the ring and felt Dis look at him, at his pocket. He tried to smile, to arch his eyebrows at the full busy room, and Dis's expression shifted into a smile but her gaze was still fixed on Bilbo, it was warm and too penetrating. Bilbo forced himself to let go. He looked away. He looked back towards Thorin. His legs didn't feel any stronger. He couldn't look away again.

 

He still had a lot to tell Thorin; he couldn't disappear just yet.

 

_-the end_


End file.
